Twenty Two Lights
by AwfulLawful
Summary: Death itself can't fully separate two Wizards inexorably linked by a fragment of one's soul being in the other. As the Death Eaters face their deserved fate, Harry mourns their lives, pities their deaths, and counts as the lights in his mind go out.


Note: I am counting all Death Eaters whose deaths were not directly confirmed. I know some MUST have died in the Battle of Hogwarts, but I assume they were captured if a death was not directly stated. That leaves us with Twenty imprisoned, and two defected. I really have no idea where this came from; I sat down to write on my two established stories and this sort of spilled out like it had been waiting for me to stop planning and start writing. I don't think it's bad for a little short story, and leaves some hope for the future toward the end. It is also cobbled-together-in-three-hours and so rough that I didn't even feel the need to proofread or research properly, so be prepared for iffy quality. I only posted it at the insistence of a friend, who seems to believe my hot-off-the-presses quality is higher than her finished product. I disagree, but she forbade me from revealing what her author name is in relation to that statement, so I can't really offer examples. Hope you like it.

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It might have been because Harry was linked to the old fool for so long. It might have been because Harry defeated him, and could have somehow inherited his bonds. It might have been a practical joke by the Elder Wand; the silly thing seemed to have a mind of its own and this was likely the sort of thing it would do to amuse itself. Giving the bonds of the defeated to the victor of a duel in that manner wasn't unheard of, at least in Myths and Legends, and those tended to have a grain of truth where magic was concerned. It might even have been, as Hermione suspected, because Tom had neglected to shield his bonds from his mental link with Harry for so long that he was simply very aware of the little presence of each Dark Mark by pure familiarity, and he had grasped at them unconsciously when the original Master had died.

No matter the reason, no matter the how or why of it, Harry could sense the Death Eaters. And it was causing him to have a very, very bad day.

It had begun the night before, when the twenty-two lights had first come to his attention. They were at the very back of his mind and yet, when three had all gone out at once, Harry had woken with a start and shuddered. He knew immediately what it meant, and the papers the next morning confirmed it. Today was the day of the Death Eater executions. After months of trials and deliberations and stalling there had been no other outcome. Those that hadn't defected were doomed, and there had been three suicides the night before when cellmates Rodolphus Lestrange, Travers and Walden Macnair had somehow caused an explosion in their cell. Nineteen lights now hovered in the forefront of Harry's mind and he was completely unable to ignore them knowing what the day held.

The little stars, most of them anyway, had seen their last night sky.

Harry couldn't eat his breakfast. After he had told them what he had been so depressed about, Ron and Hermione did their best to comfort him despite not understanding why he was so upset. If Ron had his way he might have attended the beheadings (as Harry had convinced the Ministry that the Dementor's Kiss was too cruel a punishment for anyone). Hermione would not have, but they didn't particularly bother her anymore. Now that it was simple death and not the loss of their souls, she was placated.

Harry left his first period class to be sick when the lights began going out again. They had begun bright and early in the morning. There was a terrible pause before each one, as the sentenced were being allowed to speak to their families if they had any for a bit, and had to have their charges read before the execution took place. After nineteen lights turned to fourteen over the course of an hour, Harry couldn't hold his stomach anymore. He asked to go to the Hospital Wing, went to the loo to be sick for a while, then abruptly skipped going to Pomfrey and headed out toward the Lake. He needed to see some life and some nature, and hoped that being near the water would help calm him down.

When fourteen turned to thirteen Harry stumbled and caught himself just in time to stop from falling on the person already in his planned spot; Draco Malfoy was settled at the trunk of a great tree near the water's edge, throwing little stones in, looking exactly as miserable as Harry felt. They stared, shocked and unable to speak for a long while. It must have been at least ten minutes because another light went out in Harry's mind, and he swallowed hard.

"If you're going to be sick, at least face away from me, Potter," Malfoy snapped.

That woke Harry from his shock and he frowned. "Why aren't you in class, Malfoy?"

"Because I don't appreciate the jeering I'm getting over what is apparently a celebratory event," he snarled back. "My wand may have an affinity for you, Potter, but that won't stop me from trying it if you do the same. I'm not in the mood."

One of the little stars in Harry's mind flared in anger, and he realized this one was going to stay. He knew who it was, it was one of the two lights he would get to keep today. He was suddenly gripped by an urge to stay near Malfoy, if only for the security of knowing one light would remain. "I'm sorry," he said honestly. "This isn't a celebratory event to me. I don't like it either."

Malfoy stood and sneered at him. "Why not? Isn't it a symbol of your _victory_, that even your method of execution is being done as asked? _Beheading!_ **What's the matter with you, Potter**?"

Harry put his hands up in surrender. There were now eleven lights in his mind, and he was sincerely sorry nine of them had to go. "I only asked that they not use the Kiss. Nothing else. I didn't ask for any specific method. That was decided by the Judges."

"I'm not sure I believe you," Malfoy said after a considering pause.

Harry shrugged. "I've got no reason to lie."

"Maintaining your image, for one," Malfoy stated blankly. "If you're not going to turn me in for dodging class, go away."

"I am as well. We're less likely to get caught in one spot than two," Harry pointed out.

"Piss off," was the even reply.

They must have gotten through those that had families left to speak to, because it was happening faster now. Another light went out, quickly followed by its twin, and Harry somehow knew that the Carrows were gone. They must have been side-by-side. Harry swallowed a few times to keep from making any rude noises in his state, but it didn't stop Malfoy from giving him a curious look.

"Are you actually ill? Go to Pomfrey and away from me. I don't want to catch it," he said quickly.

"I'm not sick!" Harry snapped. "I'm just not feeling well. There's a difference."

Malfoy scoffed at him and stared out at the water. "You're not actually going to tell me you're fretting over the executions today," he said plainly. "I'd have to believe you mad. Absolutely raving. The victorious shouldn't mourn their enemies, Potter."

"Then why did you put flowers on Professor Lupin's grave?"

Draco gave him a cold glare that Harry answered in like until he relented. "His son is my cousin. Like it or not I lost family that day. And like _them_ or not I had a duty to fulfill. Someone had to remember them. We're not **Blacks** - we don't strike our family tree. Half-bloods are displayed just as evenly as the Pure-Bloods with Malfoys. Don't forget that, Potter."

Harry nodded. Eight lights had turned to six. It had been so fast he hadn't seen that last one, and it made him swallow unhappily. "I... I can respect that. It makes sense."

They stared out over the water until Draco reached out suddenly and displayed his mark. "Where is the center?" he demanded.

Harry furrowed his brow. "I don't-"

"The center of the mark, you imbecile. Where is it?" Draco kept his arm out and brazenly displayed.

Harry thought it was some silly test, so he sighed and looked at it. It was the same mark he had always seen when they had been available. A skull, a snake, and- something in the snake's tongue. It wasn't the center of the actual symbol by far - it was entirely off in that regard. But Harry pointed nonetheless. "Here, in the tongue." he said.

"I knew it." Draco stood and backed away from harry a few steps, breathing heavily. "I knew it! You inherited his vassals when you killed him, didn't you!? That's why you're so weird today! You can sense when they're dying."

"Malfoy-" Harry started, but the mad Slytherin pressed on.

"Does it give you some sick sense of pleasure when they disappear from your senses, Potter?" he demanded nastily. "Getting off on it-"

"SHUT UP!"

Harry hadn't meant it to, but the command seemed to rob Malfoy of his tongue, and the blonde fell silent. It wasn't until a few minutes later when Harry had stopped breathing so heavily, and six lights had turned to three, that Malfoy spoke again. "What's it like?" he asked weakly, "To know when they go?"

"I can't even think- wait. I can." Harry turned to the Slytherin, desperately trying to keep himself steady as he explained. "Have you ever had too much to drink, and you lie on the ground and look up at the sky at night, and the stars are swimming and spinning even though you're completely still?"

With a slight sneer, the blonde nodded. "Of course I have."

"Now imagine… it felt like the stars were trying to escape something instead of dancing. And… every once in a while, you can tell one had snuffed out. You don't know which one, or what happened exactly, but it's gone forever." Harry would likely have been sick again at that point, since his own description of what he was feeling was only making it worse. There was nothing left to come up, though, so he continued. "Even though you know the star is too far away for you to reach or aid and you don't know its name, there's still this weird sense of LOSS. As if it was somehow your fault it was gone."

"That's disgusting." Malfoy commented unevenly, sounding ill now himself.

Harry grabbed a fistful of his hair and growled. "I know," he ground out through his teeth. "It's driving me spare!" He tugged at his hair when another glint went out, and he was left with two. Only two.

"Will you activate them?" Draco asked warily. He was clutching at his now covered mark with an airt of trepidation, as if he had leapt out of the pan and into the fire.

Harry shook his head. "No. No, why would I?"

"Some value power. Even a Gryffindor appreciates that." the blonde pointed out.

After seeing the images of his father and Sirius in the Pensieve tormenting Snape, Harry understood what that meant. "I don't," he assured the willowy Slytherin. "I don't want slaves."

Malfoy stared at him a long time. One of the lights in Harry's mind was strong, the other weak and failing. "My father is ill."

Harry nodded. "I know."

Draco's stare became intense. "Can you help?"

Harry furrowed his brow, concentrating on the failing light. It needed... something. Harry wasn't certain what yet, be he got the feeling he could aid it in some way. It was a link to the soul he could read like a book if only he had the Rosetta Stone that would tell him how. Eventually he settled on, "I'll try."

Draco seemed to think that a good enough answer. "I'm going home."

"I would," Harry agreed.

Malfoy began to walk away.

Harry reached out before he could think and grasped Malfoy's left arm. The blonde hissed in anger and whirled around, trying to yank his arm back, affronted by the unwanted contact. Harry's grip was firm, though, and he didn't falter.

"Come back," Harry rasped as the two shimmering specks came dangerously close to one. Lucius was very ill, and Draco needed to get home quickly if Harry didn't figure out what he needed in time.

Harry had meant it as an order, truly he had. His voice refused to steady, though, and his grip was too tight for someone who thought he had control. He was grappling for something he knew he would miss if it, like the others, were to disappear, and his eyes showed it as brightly as the last doomed light flickered before it had snuffed out in his mind. He had two now, _only two_; one strong and proud and one flickering faintly and hopelessly in the growing dark, and Harry couldn't be certain he could save the last.

For a moment Malfoy looked as if he felt sorry for Harry, like he understood trying to come to grips with losing something he didn't fully comprehend. But he knew what allowing this kind of control meant, and didn't want to be owned by someone else ever again. There was a compromise to be had, though, between Marked and Master if he played this correctly. It would be unwise to fight too hard, since that would only make Harry fumble more fiercely to keep him, and falling into line would only make things too… similar to his previous situation. Harry was not going to activate the Mark, Malfoy knew that, but he was too smart to risk it for even a moment.

"I'll consider it," he allowed with less venom in his voice than usual. Both of those things were small concessions, but they seemed to do the trick. Harry let go with great reluctance, and Malfoy stalked off to pack his things and attend his father's last days, or his recovery - it had yet to be seen.

When that weak little star went out and left Harry with one, or it grew stronger from Harry's assistance, Malfoy might return. Perhaps.

Harry stood there in a mild shock for a while, then shook himself and set to work.

It was more than they deserved, certainly. Azkaban had a cemetery, so they would already be represented if the bodies weren't sent home to their families. Harry needed something to do to comfort himself despite that, and in a few hours' time he had a decent circle of twenty stones by the lake. There was no particular order to them, but he had chosen ones that felt right – short bulky ones for Crabbe and Goyle Sr., an angular mean looking one for Yaxley, two that were almost identical for the Carrows. They were about waist-high and looked close enough to headstones to matter, yet far enough away from them that it looked like a circle Druids might have made. Satisfied for the time being that he had done all he could, Harry steeled himself and started back for supper. It would do him some good to have a cup of tea, eat some hot food, and be with his friends a while.

He didn't miss the people that his little lights had represented. Harry knew better than that. They had been bad people, had done bad things, and the ones he had left still had their debts to pay. But they had still been _his_, for a short time, and he would miss the twinkling.


End file.
